At the End of the Road
by Phoenix.G.Fawkes
Summary: She had had her choice. She hadn’t chosen him. They were now at the end of the road, though, and the path byfurcated again. The same question escaped his lips, the same choice was presented before her. It was, once more, her decision to make.


**Disclaimer:** Characters and places belong to Lois McMaster Bujold.

**Summary:** She had had her choice. She hadn't chosen him. Now they were reaching the end of the road, it was once again time for her to make a choice.

**Notes:** Many, many thanks to Poodlerat and Maxim Poddubmy, for all their help and suggestions for this fic, which would have turned out much worse without their aid. At the end of the road

* * *

**At the end of the road**

She thanked the driver, who bowed his head, in return and gracefully stepped down from the lightflyer. She stood still a moment, watching the lightflyer soar into the sky until it became a minuscule dot vanishing into the blue. She smiled, recalling all the times she had abandoned land to soar into the sky and the space beyond... once upon a time.  
She took a grasp of silky skirt and began to walk, her gaze drinking in the sight before her. She admired the blue mountains in the distance – the Dendarii mountains, she thought, and her heart leapt – and the green valleys between them, crossed by silvery streams. Long trees in all their springtime splendour hovered over her, forming a shadowed tunnel through which she walked. She closed her eyes as a soft breeze caressed her cheeks. She inhaled, noting not for the first time that even the air was different from what she was used to. This was not the recycled air of the place she'd been born or the ships onboard which she'd spent so much time as of late. This air was warm and fresh, impregnated with a thousand smells she coulnd't even begin to recognize.  
There was grass – funny, but the first time she'd felt grass under her feet had been on Escobar, as there wasn't any at home. There were flowers she couldn't name, wood burning somewhere – as unbelievable as it might sound, here people actually burnt wood to obtain heat – and many more scents, all combined in a way she'd never sensed before.  
Before her appeared an old building made of stone and wood, built in a simple style that differed much from the strange, sometimes even baroque architecture she had found in the capital. And yet it was just as ancient and imposing: its walls spoke of centuries of changing seasons, walls that had not been defeated by forces of nature or mankind. She stared at the building, which resembled a fortress, and then her gaze swept over the distant mountains, the vineyards, the sparkling lake... She suddenly realised it was a fortress: a fortress that held not an army, but a last enclave of beauty and peace in the midst of the chaos. An isolated haven for a great man...  
'Good afternoon, ma'am.'  
She looked up, managing not to start at the low voice that approached her.  
Not so isolated, then.  
Before her there was a tall, young man – almost a boy – wearing brown and silver. He looked down at her, an odd mixture of distrust and curiosity in his eyes as he studied her. His tone, though, was coolly civil.  
'With all due respect, ma'am, may I inquire as to your business here?'  
With the same cool, professional tone, she stated her name and business. A flicker of something – curiosity or surprise? – showed in his eyes to vanish at once. His face became an unreadable mask.  
'I regret to inform you, ma'am, but M'lord has requested not to be disturbed by anybody. He stated he had no wish to greet any visitors.'  
She stared at him in shock. She had traveled a long way, leaving her astonished friends and family behind, leaving all she had once known and loved, just to see one more time the man who had once meant the galaxy to her – and this idiot dared to stand in the way?  
She studied him. He was tall, lean, muscular, with the pose of a soldier – and surely armed. Damnit.  
There had been a time when she would have tried to beat him – and might have succeded. But that had been a long time ago. Now she didn't have either the strength nor the recklessness to do so.  
'Excuse me, sir. If you just told him I'm here...'  
Her words seemed to wash over his imperturbable face.  
'M'lord has requested to be left alone, ma'am.'  
She could feel anger swelling in her chest.  
'Look, I can assure you that your lord is going to be really pissed off if you don't tell him I'm here.'  
Once again, whatever she was trying to say seemed not to have reached the stony guardian.  
'Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't let you come in –'  
'Kolontai, what's going on?'  
At the sight of a man with grey hair, dressed in a brown-and-silver uniform, the boy nearly jumped and hastened to square his shoulders.  
'Sir.' He took a breath. 'This lady here wishes to see M'lord.'  
'Is that so?'  
The older man with a wrinkled face and tired eyes looked at her with polite interest.  
'May I inquire as to your name, ma'am?'  
For a moment, she wondered whether there was a special school for people like him – a place where they were taught to be icily polite and civilly threatening.  
When she repeated her name, though, his cool facade wavered. His eyes twinkled and for a ridiculous moment, she thought he would smile. He didn't, of course, but his still professional tone had nearly warmed.  
'Please, ma'am. Let me escort you.'  
The young man's eyes widened in shock.  
'But, sir, M'lord said...'  
'Kolontai' The man's voice was soft yet firm 'I'll take it from here. Return to your duty.'  
'But...'  
One look from his superior was enough to surrender him to silence. The older  
man turned to her.  
'This way, ma'am.'  
She followed him down a path that circled the building, leaving the boy – because for all his uniform and professionalism, he could not be older than twenty – gaping behind them.  
Soon her view of the boy was lost behind a bunch of trees, and she began to have trouble keeping up with her escort. After the fifth time the hem of her skirt twisted around her ankles, she wondered why she'd given in to the whim of dressing as... as a lady. What were you trying to prove, girl?  
They climbed higher up the mountain until she started to feel out of breath. It's the dress, I shouldn't have worn it. But as she saw her companion slow down his step as well, she had the rising suspicion that her lack of breath had more to do with age than her constricting clothes. She bit her lip. You aren't old. You're just... not so young anymore.  
Her escort finally stopped at the sight of a wooden pavilion half covered by climbing plants, which stood over the mirror-like lake. He turned to face her.  
'Ma'am, I must warn you. M'lord... M'lord is facing a difficult time. You'll probably won't find him to be very...'  
'Sober?'  
He winced. 'I was going to say charming, but I'm afraid you might be right, too.' He hesitated. 'Ma'am, will you...? I mean...' His voice remained cool, but his eyes betrayed him. 'Ma'am, I hope your visit will help him.'  
Or otherwise... She looked at him. There was true concern in his eyes – not mere worry at what he would have to deal with if her visit upset his lord but true, unadulterated concern. He cares for him, she realised, not altogether surprised.  
He'd always had that effect on those who served him – his men would have gone to hell and back just for him. I would have gone to hell and back for him.  
'So do I.'  
This time, he gave her a smile – small and somewhat stiff, but still a smile.  
'Thank you, ma'am. It's... It's been an honor to meet you. M'lord has always spoken most highly of you.'  
Her jaw dropped in shock but the liegeman had already disappeared down the meandering path. A dizzy, warm feeling overcame her. He spoke of me. Does he still think of me?  
She squared her shoulders, gathered her strength and started to climb the last part of the path. Unconsciously, she had resumed the pose she used to take before combat. Old habits die hard. She stopped short, gasping, when she finally caught sight of him.  
It had been so long – and it felt even longer, as the heart measured time in a different fashion than the calendar – that she hadn't been sure what to expect. In her head a thousand scenarios had formed and vanished, some glorious, others terrible. Her imagination, though, had not prepared her for this.  
He was slouched on a worn-out sofa, his clothes wrinkled and his hair messy. He was asleep or perhaps unconscious, a crystal bottle slipping through his fingers, its scarlet contents almost totally gone. He was dressed as a civilian, something that surprised her even though she knew he was no longer in the army. To her, though, he'd always be the ultimate military man: the great strategist, the charismatic leader, the invincible admiral she'd once sworn to follow to the end of the galaxy.  
He was older, too. She guessed that a part of her had foolishly hoped he'd remain the same forever, no matter how much the universe and she herself changed. A part of her had hoped he would remain the man she'd met, the man she'd fallen in love with such a long time ago. Years, though, had passed for him, like they had passed for everyone else, and he wasn't at the peak of his life anymore.  
The change, though, had not been as great as she might have expected. White was finally taking over the grey im his hair, and there were lines on his face that hadn't been there the last time she'd set eyes on him. However, he'd always looked – and acted – older than his years. She smiled in remembrance. He'd lived with such intensity, such fierceness, that life had been etched on his face, forging lines not only of age, but of pain and laughter as well. Every sorrow, every triumph, seemed to have been drawn all over his body, the story of his life written upon his skin. Her own fingers had more than once traced over those lines, reliving tales of adventure and glory, of heartache and failure.  
As she eyed the face before her, both familiar and strange, she began to wonder. If she touched it, would she be able to read the story behind that scar on his chin? If she stroked his forehead, would she learn to erase the frown on his face? If her fingertips caressed his lips, would he smile again for her? Or had too much time, too many things come to pass for her to be able to read him like she'd once done?  
After all, he was no longer the man she'd known, in the bloom of his life and on the top of his game. He was no longer the man who'd made her breath catch, her blood ignite, her entire world spin. He was no longer the man she had loved more than anything in the universe, the man she'd nearly sacrificed her freedom for.  
This worn-out man sitting in front of her had gone through things she could not begin to imagine. He had known sorrows and happiness she knew nothing about; he'd built a new life that did not include her. His eyes had seen what she would not, gaining lessons she had not shared. He had changed with the seasons, grown wiser with the years.  
He had moved on.  
Without her.  
And so had she. She had faced unnamable dangers, been to hell and back, known countless victories and defeats. War had etched scars on her body, years had drawn lines on her face. She'd been in places his feet had never touched, would never touch. She had experienced what he could not even dream of. She had gone far, far away, to the end of the galaxy and beyond. She had matured and learnt to stand on her own feet.  
She had moved on.  
Without him.  
And yet, her fingers longed to trace the new lines on his face, to unveil the unknown stories written on his skin. She wanted to bring back the man she'd once known at the same time she wanted to learn all there was to learn of the man that had taken his place. She wanted to feel him, both the man she'd loved and the man she couldn't recognize.  
And why not? Why the hell not?  
She leant over him, her face mere inches away from his. Slowly, as though she feared she might break the enchantment, she raised her hand and stretched it, barely touching his skin. Skin that was softer and rougher than she remembered. She closed her eyes, her fingers following the familiar pattern down his face. It was different, and yet it was the same. It felt right and strange at the same time and she let herself get lost in the touch.  
She heard a faint gasp and felt him shifting under her touch. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see his eyelids fluttering. She took a step backwards. The ghost of a smile crossed her features as she remembered what a light sleeper he'd been back in the day.  
He blinked, his eyes bloodshot and glassy. She glanced at the crystal bottle in danger of slipping from his fingers. He had never been good at holding his liquour.  
After a moment, though, his eyes began to focus until he managed to look right at her. Her breath caught as his gaze traveled over her form and she deflated when seeing the confusion on his face. She glanced at the long, old-fashioned dress she was wearing. She had bought it back at Vorbarr Sultana, half for fun and half because the colours reminded her of her old uniform, the one she'd been wearing when they'd first met. But he'd never seen her wearing anything like it, and after all these time, after all what had happened to both of them, how could she expect him to recognize her?  
He frowned as her heart fell. She should have never worn the dress.  
'Is it you?'  
She started although the voice did not raise above a whisper.  
'Is it really you?'  
Brown eyes met grey and she smiled at seeing recognition in his.  
'Yes, love. It's really me.'  
He tried to stand up, but his treacherous knees doubled under his weight, making him to stagger. She rushed to help him to sit down, much to his embarassment. His mortified look disappeared, though, when he felt the warmness of her smile. He smiled back when she took a seat next to him, her hands grasping his.  
'You came.'  
She tilted her head and eyed him, frowning slightly at the surprise in his voice.  
'How could I not?'  
A shadow sombered his face, his eyes darkening as though black clouds had covered the grey sky in them.  
'So you heard about...'  
His voice broke, falling into silence, but no more words were needed. Even after all those weeks, she still remembered the coldness that invaded her heart when she had learnt about the death of a woman she had never gotten to know, had never needed to know. He had loved her, and that had been enough to send chills under her spine as her eyes fell on the obituary.  
She bit her lip. How could she reach him, when he was so far away, lost in painful memories she didn't share? What bridge could be built over the abyss of loss and ache that separated them?  
She wished she sould spill words of comfort with the same ease he used to have. She wished she could embrace him to protect him from the ghosts of his past. She wished she could take away his pain.  
Instead, she squeezed his hand.  
He looked up and the shadows seemed to retreat to the back of his eyes as he squeezed her hand back.  
They sat in silence for a while. She closed her eyes, content with the feeling of the sun warming her cheeks, with inhaling another take of this unbelievably aromatic air, with caressing his hand. Content with just being here, right now, with him.  
'I... I was in a rather bad shape, you know, right... right after.'  
She nodded, not needing more explanation.  
'I know.'  
And she did. Without having to ask, she knew what those first hours must have been to him; she knew how his step had faltered, how the darkness had swallowed him in as all faith was lost. She hadn't been there but she could see him, falling in despair, yet struggling all the way down. Like always.  
During the time when she'd made the decision to come here to see him (although there had been nothing to decide, she'd just packed her things and left) and her arrival, she'd pondered. She'd reflected on the passing of time, on the nature of change. On how nothing stayed the same. And she'd worried.

In that moment, though, she saw with astounding clarity that her fears had been unfounded. Because here she was, his hand in hers, in complete silence in a place where she'd never set foot before, and yet it felt as though she'd never been anywhere else. As if she'd never belonged anywhere except by his side.

Their eyes met, understanding shinning in them, no words needed. As though no time had passed. As though he hadn't married and raised half a dozen children who would become great men and women who served their Imperium with the same fierceness he had. As though she hadn't led the most feared fleet in the Nexus and become a legend of her own accord. Their eyes met and everything was back in to place.  
'Will... will you stay?'  
She looked at his hand, placed on top of hers, and then at his eyes, shinning with hope and fear. Last time she'd seen that look in his eyes, he'd asked her for the very same thing. Everything had been very different back then, though.

Back then, she hadn't seen this small corner of the universe as a peaceful, warm place of beauty, but as the backwater planet it was, a planet forged in fire and blood, a planet that devoured its children.  
He had wanted to settle down here. She had wanted to fly far far away. He had wanted her to learn to love this land, she had wanted him to forget about it. He had wanted her to set her feet on the ground and accept the three planets he could offer her. She had wanted to stretch her wings and grasp all that the galaxy had to offer.  
They had wanted each other. They had needed each other. He needed his honor, though, as much as she needed her freedom.  
She had had her choice. She hadn't chosen him.  
She hadn't regretted her choice, not for an instant. She had lived her life to the fullest. So had he. She had accomplished everything she'd dreamed of and more. He had finally found his place in the grand scheme of things. He was content without her, she was happy in spite of his absence.  
They were at the end of the road, though, and the path bifurcated again. The same question escaped his lips, the same choice was before her. It was, once again, her decision to make.  
It hadn't been easy the first time, yet it hadn't been hard. It hadn't been easy to part with him, to leave him behind. However, she had always known she could not bend to his wishes, so her decision hadn't been hard to make. It had been the only possible choice for her, and she'd made it.  
She had never wanted to take it back; she had never doubted her decision. She was at the end of the road, though, and the universe had already showed her everything it had to offer. There were no more treasures to find, no more dangers to face, no more mysteries to unveil. Her journey was reaching its end and the great adventure was over.  
What is it going to be, this time?  
She looked up once more and was swallowed whole by his grey eyes. There was so much in there she hadn't seen before, so many questions she wanted to ask, so much to learn from the depths of his gaze...  
Looking into his eyes, she realised this was not the end of the road, but the first steps onto a new path. Looking into his eyes, she realised there were still mysteries she had not yet unveiled, dangers she had not faced, victories waiting to be won. Looking into his eyes, she realised the adventure was just about to begin.  
'I'm not going anywhere.'  
She could not have chosen any differently.


End file.
